The God of Storms cast his grey glance upon the tower on the borderline of Fantasy and Reality. As always the Lady of Darkness and Light stood gazing in the evenings' distance. The curtains and her hair whirling around the room, the floor gleaming wet with rain. Perhaps mixed with tears, perhaps not. You can't tell rain and tears apart. Her eyes don't mirror the stars tonight. The stars are high above his thundering clouds, which frighten the people in their lowly houses, and make the animals flee deeper underground. Her eyes mirror his divinity. This makes him angry, and also strangely insecure. Mortals are not supposed to have divinity in their eyes... it upsets the balance, and that upsets the gods. Gods are not used to the feeling of insecurity, it pisses them off.
He could strike her down with one of his thunderbolts, and that would be the end of it. She deserves it. Possessing the secret of Fantasy does not give you the right to insult the gods. Yet a new feeling grabs him by the wrist and stays his hand as he aims his thunderbolt. A feeling that has made lesser gods fall to the earth, and deeper still, in cataclysmic agony. Fear has entered the mind of the God of Storms. Did not Naciketas the mortal beat Yama, god of the dead? There have been mortals who outsmarted the gods...
He laughs at his fear, and his laughter rolls like thunder over the hills, and the other way 'round.
As the rain streams down, and the grey marble floor of the tower turns into an ocean, he goes down, to look at this mortal that dares to defy him. The winds howl around the tower as he steps from the sky unto the balcony. She stands before him, her eyes closed. Her long wet hair whirls around him and forms the softest yet most effective satin bonds. The heavy black curtains close around him, and all noise ceases. Silence. The storm, his creation, has vanished. The rain-lashed fields, the bending trees, the fleeing life below. Silence is golden, but silence is also black, and soft as silk. He feels alone, like something has been taken from him. As he sees himself in green emerald eyes, he knows. She sees herself in his. There is no point in denying it. She sees herself in the grey eye of the storm. Mirrored in the divine. Seeing, creating, changing... equal.
He...
Falls? Surrenders? Flees? Laughs perhaps?
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